I Missed Myself

As soon as Dr. Griffin returned to the examination room, I knew that the news wasn’t good. I could tell by the way he avoided my eyes as he studied his clipboard and fidgeted with his pen that something was wrong, terribly wrong with me. The ache in my groin that I had been ignoring for so long was indication enough, and as the doctor cleared his throat, I tried to prepare myself for the worst.

“The test results are positive for testicular cancer,” he said abruptly. “Unfortunately, the cancer has spread into both testicles, and neither one of them can be saved. I am scheduling you for a bilateral orchiectomy tomorrow morning if the hospital can fit you in. I am very sorry, Jonathan, but there is nothing else we can do.”

“Nothing else we can do.” The doctor’s words haunted me as I walked out of the medical building and started towards home, knowing full well that it could all have been so easily avoided. If only I had gone in for a checkup when that little lump first appeared in one of my balls last year, I would have been able to save my manhood. Now, in less than twenty-four hours, I was going to be castrated.

I was determined to spend my last night as a man. Instead of walking back to my apartment, I turned around and began to head downtown, towards Rush Street. I would pick up the first girl I could find, pay her whatever she wanted, and screw her until my dick fell off. I wouldn’t be needing it after tomorrow.

I fumbled for the light on the nightstand and turned it on. Five o’clock. In less than two hours, I would be wheeled into an operating room, and when I woke up, I would be a eunuch.

I looked down at the girl who had given me my last night as a man. Her long black hair curled in ringalettes around her shoulders, and she gazed up at me with deep brown eyes. Without a word, she reached up for me and pulled me towards her, and once again we began making slow, exquisite love.